


Mineshaft II

by taylor_tut



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Sad Ending, Songfic, just go listen to the song, terrible and not worth reading but i upload all my fics here so whatever, the song is mineshaft II by dessa, which is much better than this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 15:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16161689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A really shitty fic from my tumblr that was a prompt for "shuffle your music and write a fic based on the lyrics." Cameron Campbell comes to David's tent late at night to ask for forgiveness, and David shows a jaded attitude he'd never let slip if he'd known that Max was hiding in the bushes.





	Mineshaft II

Max had tried to sneak out of the cabin and set up the bottle rockets for tomorrow’s prank without anyone noticing, but as he scoped out the counselor’s cabin to ensure that David and Gwen were safely subdued in their evening Bob Ross marathon, he found that he couldn’t tear himself away from the interaction that was about to happen.

“Davey,” Mr. Campbell called, knocking on his cabin door. David’s face was dark when he opened the door and Max dove into the bushes to hide. 

“What do you want, Cameron?” he demanded, using a tone Max had never heard before. It was cold and slate grey, like he’d rather be talking to literally anyone else. Clearly, the cheerful way he interacted with Mr. Campbell during the day when the kids were watching was a little less naive than Max had believed. 

Cameron flinched. “I’ve been thinking,” he started, “a lot lately. About how I’ve treated you. All the things I’ve put you through.”

David nodded, looking bored. 

“You know that part of the conditions of my parole are that I have to be a changed man before they take off this tracking anklet.”

“You’re hoping I’ll vouch for you when they ask,” David assumed, and Campbell shook his head defensively. 

“No—well, yes, of course, but not just that.” 

David was waiting for him to get to the point, looking like he hadn’t decided whether his answer would be a heated argument or a door slammed in his face, but either way, Max couldn’t wait to see it happen. 

“Then what?” 

Campbell took a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to make a new start. But I can’t do that if you’re angry and you’re SO angry.” David gave him a look that implied that what he’d said was obvious, and for anyone but David, Max would have assumed that it was. “You stayed so mad. Gwen tells me you haven’t been sleeping. That you’ve been drinking to get to sleep.”

David leaned hard against the doorframe. Drunk? No, Max could see intoxicated posture from a mile away, and this wasn’t that. “What do you WANT?” he demanded once more.

“I was wondering if you could finally find it in your heart to forgive me.”

David blinked. Once, twice, slowly, expressionlessly.

“You’ve known me since I was ten,” he started, “just a kid. I idolized you. I had a shit home life, and you knew that. I put everything I had into trusting you. But after everything that’s happened… I think I’m too big to forgive you.” He looked regretful. Like it was killing him to be too world-weary to trust his old mentor: and it probably was. That’s why he fought so hard to keep Max optimistic, to try to keep him from hardening his heart too early, so that some day, when things were better and people cared about him and life wanted to be okay again, he could actually accept it rather than having a too-fucked worldview and a too-scarred mindset to let the light in.

Even with his shitty parents, Max had something David hadn’t: David. David was someone he could trust every time, who would never use him or betray him no matter how good the opportunity, who would go to the ends of the earth to protect not just the bare minimum to keep CPS from taking him away, but his happiness, his future, himself. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Campbell,” David said, looking thin and drawn as he shut the door. Max didn’t place the bottle rockets—David had enough shit to clean up.


End file.
